Bittersweet
by xwwefanwriterx
Summary: "Sometimes life gets bitter, and sometimes life gets sweet… but this is one of those sweet moments." Ainsley was just a Straight Edge single girl trying to make it back into intergender wrestling for the first time that it would be used in years... but how would she do that, when she was dealing with the problems of the real world all at the same time? OC. Really sucky summary.


_'Cause she's bittersweet, she knocks me off of my feet, and I can't help myself-I don't want anyone else-_

Before her alarm clock could continue blaring the lovely yet sometimes obnoxious music by The Click Five, Ainsley somehow managed to hit the snooze bar, and glanced across the room to where a chair was perched, facing her bed. Asleep there, after staying up all night with her, was Ainsley's homosexual male best friend, Trent.

Ainsley's parents had never minded that Trent would come over, because normally he would bring one of his many quasi-boyfriends from throughout the years with him. The previous night, he'd brought Jared over, who left-like every other boyfriend before him-at ten thirty. That was where things were different this time around.

Normally, Trent and Ainsley would go to sleep from there, with the door open and the light on her nightstand turned on, for her father's sanity. Trent would then wake up with her at the sound of her alarm clock in the morning, and cheerfully deposit himself downstairs at the dining room table to chat about football with her father, and then Glee or Twilight with her mother.

Trent was not, nor would he ever be, he swore, a stereotypical homosexual male, in the least. But, he couldn't help the pull that he felt toward Glee and Twilight. It was a little strange-but, then again, so was Trent. That was why they were friends.

On this particular morning, however, it seemed that Trent was very tired. Ainsley, quite obviously, could relate to this.

The previous night, after Jared had gone back to his house, Ainsley had kept Trent up until midnight to talk about Breaking Dawn, and how they thought it would compare to the book-decidedly terrible in both of their opinions-and how it was to be split into two-which they both agreed was a Harry Potter rip-off on the part of the director.

"Trent!" Ainsley shouted. "Oh, my goodness gracious.. Trent!" His eyes fluttered open at the sound of her thick English accent, and his face transformed into a happy smile once his eyes had settled on her face. "I cannot believe I forgot. I have to be on a plane in three hours if I want to make it to the SuperShow tonight!"

"Are you kidding me right now, Ainsley?!" He shouted, making her jump, before he burst into a fit of laughter. "Darn it all to heck if I stop you from making it to a show." Trent stood up from his chair and stretched, then held out a hand to pull her out of bed. "Okay, let's go. You've been living out of a suitcase since you got back on Thursday-which I guess is a good thing after all, since you're nearly going to miss your flight."

He reached over and put his arms around her, hugging her tightly. "I am totally going to miss you, Ainsley. I'm sad to see you go, but I know how much you love professional wrestling," he stepped away, a smile on his face, and squeezed her hand. "I'm going to go talk about football with your father now, and the American lockout. I'll catch you downstairs so I can drive you to the airport, too. Do you have your ticket?"

"I have my ticket and my passport, if that's what you're meaning to ask." She laughed, and he left the room. Once he was gone, she shut the door behind him, diving into her suitcase almost immediately.

Ainsley ended up pulling out a white faux fur vest, a short-sleeved DX shirt from the mid-2000's that she'd gotten at her first show, and a pair of black denim shorts that very closely resembled Eve's shorts for her gear.

At least they signed off to let me come home this weekend, she thought. Even if I will be jet-lagged to hell without a very unhealthy amount of caffeine in my system. As she was pulling into a pair of tan gladiator sandals, she looked over to her phone, buzzing with yet another Click Five song. Note to self.. change all of my alarms and ringtones as soon as humanly possible.

_Hey girl, I wanna catch your wave. Hey girl, I wanna drift away with you-_

"Punk, you asshole! How on Earth did you manage to know that I was awake, right this second?" Ainsley laughed in the general direction of the phone on her nightstand, now on speakerphone, as she finished tying her sandals up to her knees.

"I didn't, actually, but it is admittedly very reassuring to know that you will be at the show tonight, rather than tardy as you've been known to be." Phil Brooks, better known as CM Punk, answered her with a sarcastic tone in his voice. And, just through that tone, she could almost feel one of his signature little smirks, smug as always, growing across his face.

That very same smirk could make any heart melt, including Trent's-but excluding her own. She told herself that she didn't like him, couldn't like him, or any other Superstar in the roster for that matter, in a romantic fashion. She thought that World Wrestling Entertainment should be for people who wanted to work their asses off and get shit done-while kicking butt-and not for people who wanted romance out of it.

"Are you an idiot, Phil? I'm not about to miss my first show back from my weekend at home," she pulled all of her clothes together and put them into her laundry bag, and then into her luggage back. "Do you guys wear underwear under your trunks?" She asked.

The question was so nonchalant that it made her want to laugh out loud, but she waited in silence for an answer despite herself.

He seemed to have been in the middle of drinking something, because the next and only thing that Ainsley heard through the phone was coughing and sputtering, with a little bit of liquid flying from someone's mouth. Then, she heard his laughter, and he coughed for another moment before he spoke.

"I don't exactly look into the pants of the other guys, because that's just a little weird." He mimicked her voice as he finished. "But, speaking for myself, I suppose it really depends on whether I'm in street clothes or not. Because trunks, comfortable as they can be, are not so much comfortable while wearing underwear. Especially when I wear boxers."

Feigning a slightly sultry addition under her English accent, she giggled into the microphone on her phone. "Oh, Phil, I always knew that you would be a boxers man."

"I'm gonna hang up now," he laughed, before proceeding to say his goodbye and revert to texting her instead, like he always did.

After fixing her shorts, adjusting them, Ainsley proceeded to pick and prod at the way the DX t-shirt looked on her body.

Eventually, she just pulled it off and changed into a white WWE Diva's shirt that she'd told the executives she would try to wear if she went out and about on her weekend vacation back home. Once she'd put the vest back on, she put her phone charged, iPod-laptop adapter, and iPod, into her carry-on purse.

Now that she was following her ever-familiar routine once again, she ran down her stairs with her bags, sliding on her sandals into the kitchen. "Good morning old men who I will never find attractive!"

Ainsley smiled at her father and Trent, who both just laughed and went on talking about the effect of the lockout, and that they should go to a football game sometime soon, as she dug through the fridge to grab an apple, a piece of string cheese, and a strawberry Ring-Pop that she'd gotten at a convenience shop down the street.

"Mum, why did you put my Ring-Pop into the fridge?" She called down the hallway, in the general direction of where her mother and father's bedroom was.

Ainsley's mother, Caroline, sounded genuinely confused when she asked back down the hallway, "It's not supposed to go into the fridge?"

Laughing, Ainsley responded, "No, it is not! Now, please, come out of your bedroom and give me a goodbye hug so I can go back to the States." She turned to the dining room table once more and smiled at Trent. "The bubbles to my bath, the holes to my Swiss cheese, my Trent... Come here and give me a hug! You, too, Daddy!" She winked at her father, and the two of them sitting at the table stood up to cross the room and give her a hug before she left.

Ainsley was quite the underdog in the professional wrestling business. At twenty years old, she was the youngest Diva, even younger than Kelly Kelly. She was a hundred and twenty pounds, which was heavier than some of the other girls, but she didn't mind since it wasn't just fat, it was mostly muscle mass. And then, of course, she was five feet and four inches tall, which was just two inches taller than AJ and Layla.

Ainsley's mother was once again scrambling, as always, to make it out of the house on time to do her errands for the week, had only half of her hair straightened, the other half pulled up into a half-hearted bun on the side of her head, slightly knotty from what Ainsley could see. It was held in place by a large brown hair clip. She was wearing a pair of jeans, more than likely stolen from Ainsley's closet of clothes she was forced to leave behind every time she left in order to make it from hotel to hotel in a smooth transition, without it being like a huge move every time.

A white t-shirt and an aquamarine-colored robe hung off of her mother's shoulders lightly, as she was a bit skinnier than she should have been, while she hugged her only child goodbye once again. "I can't believe you only got to come home for a weekend, honey!" She mumbled into Ainsley's ear softly, tears burning hot in her eyes.

"Mum, don't cry," Ainsley begged, stepping away before sticking out her tongue like she was a child again at her mother. "Maybe tomorrow Trent can bring his laptop over, and I can attempt to Skype with him before SmackDown gets taped. I'll keep you posted on that." She glanced between her parents, both of them fighting back tears now. "It'll probably be at about six o'clock in the morning here, if that's okay with you guys."

There were tears running quickly down her mother's face, now, despite Ainsley's very heavy protests, so she forced herself to turn away and start off in the direction of the staircase, where she'd dropped her things, so she wouldn't end up joining in on their crying against her will.

When she had everything in her arms and made her way back into the foyer next to the kitchen, both of her parents were crying, and she couldn't help but smile at them even though she knew they were hurting.

"What did I tell you," she laughed. "You can go back to straightening your hair for work and errands, now. Trent's going to take me to the airport."

Without another word, Ainsley's mother fled the room like fire was on her heels, wiping tears from her face, shortly follow by her father after he kissed Ainsley's forehead.

Trent grabbed her arm to pull her out the front door before the two of them started to cry, purse and luggage on either of her arms.


End file.
